Dealing with Anger

We humans are born with a remarkable ability to feel and a concomitant ability to respond to and express these feelings. How our feelings are perceived, accepted and responded to depends on many factors.

Anger, as the other emotions: love, sadness, joy, fear, is a normal human feeling. Feelings reside very much in our body selves. Anger is an emotion that propels the person to move out in physical or verbal response to protect self others or things from harm. Fear, on the contrary, is an emotion that evokes a pulling back in self protection. Love is a feeling that energizes us forward to loving action and embrace.

All of these emotions are fueled, inspired, by our mind’s perception of the object or person before us as positive or negative, life threatening or enhancing.

Of all human emotions, the one that seems most prone to be problematic is anger. Anger, according to its strength and our capacity to see clearly and deeply into its nature, can be an enormous source of suffering for us and others. Anger destroys family relationships, friendships, business partnerships...it may lead to bullying, road rage and all too easily sow the seeds of war.

Many of us grew up with the idea that anger was a “bad” emotion. Yes, “Jesus did get angry,” (at least once) says the Gospel. But - he was God. In their loving attempts to raise good children, parents sometimes squelch the early self protective energy (that’s what anger often is) that impels children to speak out their feelings when they perceive something as negative or harmful. Adults usually do this because they believe it is in the child’s best interests and in an effort to teach good and appropriate conduct. Sadly, if this happens too often the child grows into either a rebellious adult or an overly docile adult with little sense of how to make wholesome use of the energy of anger in personal or public situations.

Our hope in these hours of retreat is to invite all to look deeply at the God-given emotion of anger. We hope to offer insights into how this emotion can be used to strengthen us in our convictions and allow us wisely to caretake ourselves, those we love and our world. We believe that this will only happen if we understand deeply the roots of our anger and if we know how to tame its strength rather than fuel its sometimes inordinate desires.

Honest, fearless self-reflection can do a great deal to help us understand the roots of and negatives ways we deal with our anger. We can learn how to gently soothe ourselves and assure ourselves of our own goodness and value. We can find tools to help us to speak our truth mindfully and without blame or shame.

We need, each of us, to appreciate not only our own pain but the pain of others/ the pain of our world, so as to live and act with COMPASSION that is truly HEALING.

Pat and Tim will present a weekend retreat October 21 to 23, 2011 at Holy Family entitled, Dealing with Anger: Creating a Culture of Compassion. Click here for more information.

White on Rice by Susan Nappi

I am not much company today. My head aches a new, pressured ache, the kind the comes from sticking out a cold that actually requires medical intervention. Clearly infection has set in and fortunately for me I have unearthed a long forgotten, but not past the expiration date, stash of antibiotics for just such an occasion (a rare filled-but-ended-up-not-needing prescription). I just started them and I am bone tired, my stomach already protesting their presence. Our bodies are all tired, housing guests that require more attention than we have wanted to give. The first of these was the 'fever/runny nose/cough' that came and went without much fanfare for weeks on end but not without harvesting the last vestiges of precious sleep. Then there was the bout of constipation (my eldest daughter, not mine) that consumed our house for a couple of days (she's not the silent suffering type) and ended up requiring, er, serious intervention that shall not be discussed here. Finally, the dreaded stomach bug that has been marauding around town showed up and decided to pick on Ellie. Every 40-60 minutes or so she would writhe in her sleep and then deposit what little she had in her stomach on the towels we lined up around her, which was enough to trip my hyper vigilant tendency throughout the night to ensure that she wasn't aspirating or throwing up on both of us.

B has been working throughout most of this as he maintains his position as 'head of the household' (although we both work 40 hours?). He does his best to replenish saltines, take the less sick child out so I can rest, and continue to tell me how great I am. I don't feel great in my fuzzy socks and matted hair but it's nice to be told so. Regardless, he will always be considered second choice when illness strikes and even if I were Secretary of State I believe I would still be cleaning up barf (this statement was confirmed by the fact that my daughter waited an hour for me on the throne as I commuted home from work).

The days drag on and offer little relief. I am lonely. There is the constant whir of the washing machine, dryer and dishwasher to keep me company, of course, but as the light grows dim and ends another day that I've spent in "lounge wear", I can't help but feel a little sorry for myself. The easiest thing for me to do in these moments is to try to keep myself from feeling this way - read something, watch something, try to rationalize my feelings away - anything but actually feeling. Fortunately for me I am distracted by requests - television shows, videos, puzzles, play-doh and meals.

Ellie's stomach has finally stopped protesting and she has decided she is hungry. I offer her the list of safe foods I recall from the BRATY diet first encountered in Dr. Sear's baby book years ago (B- bananas, R-Rice, A-apples, T- toast, Y-Yogurt). Her eyes beam with excitement as she asks for "RICE! I just LOVE your rice!" I prepare basic white rice for her, with a dash of salt, and she savors each bite. I want to savor life like that - even the basic white rice. She isn't thinking of the dinner she lost on the sheets last night or of the things she cannot eat, but of the beautiful bowl of fluffy goodness laid out before her. I am inspired.

I do my best to get back to the basics and conserve my energy, shoving a forkful of white rice in my mouth. I seldom allow myself to eat it now that I have ingested large quantities of health literature discussing the consequences of consuming white rice (everything from increasing risk of diabetes to instigating disapproving stares from your more savvy, nutrition-conscious peers). I savor the grains and remember when my mom made me the same meal to calm my weary stomach. The kitchen is quiet and we are sitting across from each other, eating rice, recovering, and getting basic.

What Holy Family Means to Me...

Holy Family is a part of who I am. Ever since my first retreat 7 years ago, the messages of the retreat experience have become beacons in my journey through life.

As I now reflect back on my retreats, I am amazed at how perfectly the themes have aligned to my life's situations at that time. From the birth of my children to the reconciliation of past pains, Holy Family has provided me with the strength, wisdom, and faith to be a better man.

God is in these walls, the retreat team, the music, the food, and most certainly all of the retreatants. By spending a weekend surrounded by God, it has become increasingly easier to connect with God amongst my everyday life throughout the year.

I pray that God continue to bless this place and each of us who gather here.

Anthony Calendrillo

What's a Dad to Do? When I Can't Answer Her Questions Anymore...

Part of the joy of being a father to young children, is the ability to answer nearly any question that my children can ask. To them, I am an expert on everything. I fix bikes, clean fish tanks, and perform reconstructive surgery on Barbie dolls. To my children, I can make everything better--until recently.

Daddy, why did God make us so that we could be hurt? It was one of the first problems I couldn’t fix, a question I couldn’t answer. A few hours before, I was that hero delivering the perfectly sized Tinkerbelle band-aid to a routine bloody knee and stirring the perfect chocolate milk. Now, after having dedicated half my lifetime to studying theology, she unearths the single question that still baffles me.

And she knew it. Those bright expectant eyes that were accustomed to having all her questions answered by daddy gave way to disappointment. Soon after, she added more questions. And why is it that in the Bible God talks to people like Mary and Joseph, but God doesn’t talk to me? That’s a wonderful question, I said. She looked at me suspiciously. I think I should ask Fr. David, because you don’t seem to know very much!…… And with eyes welling up, she said, “I wish God would talk to me.”

Why does God seem to be absent in the face of suffering or in the everyday moments of life? Why doesn’t God speak to us more clearly when we struggle with life’s persistent questions? As men, we prefer clear, logical answers to our questions. We like rational analysis. Yet, to be a believer means to live with the mystery of unanswered questions that often defy the logical mind. This is difficult for all of us, but especially for us as men. Faith is less about knowing for sure, than it is about carrying a mystery.

In the end, Jesus did not come to answer the question of suffering but to fill it with his presence. So we don’t know why children are born hungry, but we will feed them. We don’t know why we were made to be hurt and to hurt others so easily, but we will ask for forgiveness and we will forgive them. We don’t know why so many are neglected, and judged, and ignored, but we will love them. In the end, the silence of God on these is the space for us to speak. I invite you to ponder how we as men of faith might respond to these great questions and mysteries at Holy Family’s Annual Men’s Spirituality Evening Retreat on May 4, 2012. Click here for more information.

An Unexpected Call...

This reflection commemorates Holy Family's 60th Anniversary.
We hope you will join us for our 60th Anniversary Mass on May 22.
Click here for more details.

I attended my first retreat ever (anywhere) at Holy Family in January of 2009, at the invitation, and, as it turned out, gift of a friend who has been “my Eli” since I was confirmed as an adult years ago. She had been telling me for years that I would love it. She was, of course, right.

I arrived Friday night with such anticipation, although my first take on the retreat theme – We Are Called – was perhaps a tad skeptical. At my age and stage in life, the prospect of a “Call” seemed a bit remote.

I did, however, come away from that weekend, if not called to something, then maybe awakened, to a need, almost a hunger (to risk being somewhat dramatic) for prayer at a deeper level.

I have always prayed – usually a running commentary of thanks, help, and I’m sorry throughout my day. Since that January weekend, however, I now set aside a specific time every morning to be quiet in God’s presence and to pray by name, and with intention, for people in need of healing and for the blessing and protection of my family and friends. I pray for those who have asked for prayers and for others whose particular needs I am aware of. I pray for people and for circumstances from the headlines and those with whom I share ministries in my parish. I call each one to mind and their individual needs or circumstances and place them before God. I also pray every day for those who have been and are a part of my spiritual journey.

Maybe my call was to prayer! I’ve learned that my attentiveness to prayer has made me more attentive to others and aware, as well, of God’s comforting presence and loving care in my own life.

While I am active in and committed to my home parish, Holy Family has become my extended family in faith, a place of welcome and comfort. I come back as often as I can for the renewal, fresh insight, and continuing call that are at the heart of the Holy Family experience, and always leave uplifted and encouraged … and wanting more.

Jane Woodmansee